


Let Go

by icedteainthebag



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-26
Updated: 2011-07-26
Packaged: 2017-10-21 19:18:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/228709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedteainthebag/pseuds/icedteainthebag
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One moment can change everything and nothing at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let Go

**Author's Note:**

> I've wanted to write this story since all things first aired: what happened between when Scully fell asleep and when she left Mulder's apartment. It took me years to feel like I could do it right. Finally the bug bit. I hope that I did it justice.

The first awareness of my surroundings came as a bubbling sound.   
Water bubbling, seeping into my consciousness. A fish tank.   
I pull my eyes open groggily. A glowing fish tank. A bobbing   
UFO drops, rises, drops, rises. Those are Mulder's fish. I'm   
sitting up, immersed in darkness pierced by the blue green   
light of a cleaner-than-usual fish habitat.

I fell asleep on Mulder's couch. Where was he? What were we doing?

I turn my head. My neck, tight from its positioning, reminds   
me of the importance of horizontal slumber. The shooting pain  
makes me gasp and reflexively knead the soreness away. I start   
to recall bits of conversation from...hours ago? Mulder and I   
sitting on his couch, talking about fate or whatever derivative   
of fate has brought us to this very moment. I was so goddamn   
tired. Yes. Sorry. I said goddamn. I'll make it up later.

I obviously fell asleep, and apparently Mulder covered me with   
this...extremely interesting but scratchy Navajo-style blanket.   
I push it aside and sit up, my elbows on my knees, rolling my   
head around my neck to soothe the tension. My shoes?   
Good question...

The apartment is quiet but a hum sifts through the air. A   
refrigerator. The tick of a clock. Wow. He actually has a clock   
that ticks. That has batteries.

Working batteries.

My thoughts drift to him. Stonehenge-capped Mulder, quizzical   
Mulder, the skeptic to my believer for one, brief, monumental   
moment. The tea we drank--he actually drank my tea, and didn't   
turn the TV on when we came in. Suddenly, it seemed in tiny   
peculiar ways that things weren't the same. Ways not many   
people would notice, except for people who had spent the   
better part of seven years together. Maybe the not-so-better   
part at times. But years all the same.

I stand up and stretch my sore body. Sore from walking, talking,   
crying, Buddhist-templing. The day had drained me in so many ways.   
The glow of the fish tank reveals a dim outline of the room and   
I see my shoes beside the couch. I lean down to pick them up,   
then pause as my fingers graze the black leather. I'm startled   
by a loud snore from the other room. His bedroom.

I run a hand through my hair, a day's worth of sweat or dirt   
or whatever. I can't resist the urge to walk over to his open   
doorway and peer into it. White light from a streetlamp outside   
beams through the foliage at hiswindow. It allows for a   
viewing of his long, muscular body, stretched out under a   
comforter.

I lean against the door frame and watch him sleep. The snore   
must have been a fluke. He sleeps quietly and motionless, most   
likely jet-lagged. I feel jet-lagged. I hear the distant   
dripping of his bathroom sink. Tiny, steady drops pattering   
like my heart beating in my chest.

I'm hesitating in his doorway for no specific reason. I'm curious   
about how he sleeps. What he's dreaming about and if I should   
stay or go. It's late. I have places to be in the morning,   
things to finish up. It looks windy outside. It might storm.   
I should head back to my place, where clocks are also ticking,  
appliances are humming. My DVR waiting for me with last night's   
Law & Order. My bed, my soft comfortable pillows. My lonely   
little bed, for a lonely little Dana Scully. And my pajamas.   
If I stay here...well, I'd have to sleep in this suit, but no   
matter what I'm taking off these pantyhose. I don't sleep in hose.

He looks so lonely, lying there. How many nights have we slept   
alone through the years? Hundreds? Thousands, possibly? Actually,   
more like over...2,000 times? The thought is harrowing in itself.

Why haven't we ever crossed the line? We've already lost so much,   
gained some of it back. This deep-seeded irrational fear of physical   
intimacy with Mulder...sometimes it seems so trivial. As long as   
neither of us wields an ice pick or is beamed up mid-coitus there   
is really nothing that would faze me at this point. So little to   
lose. I'm just so...lonely? I detest the word. The assumption   
everybody makes when you lead a life like mine. Or ours.

I realize I've been contemplating my life's deepest mysteries   
at 1:13 in the morning, barefoot with five toes in Mulder's   
bedroom. I cross my arms in front of me and enter. My feet   
glide quietly over the carpet. I'm beside his bed, over his   
body, and now can see he's shirtless, his tan arm and shoulder   
glinting in the light. I close my eyes and breathe deeply,   
imagining sliding my palm down his strong arm. The thought   
twinges through me like I'm a taut wire. In a lot of ways I am.

I need to get plucked.

There is a small space beside him on the edge of the bed. I gently   
sit down, my back to his body. I'm not sure why. I turn my head to   
study his profile, that strong arm a dangling carrot. I trace a   
light line from his shoulder down to his wrist. He rouses a little   
and I pull my hand away, my cheeks flush. Maybe it's time to go.

He turns his head and opens his eyes slowly.

"Now there's one person I never expected to see in my bed,"   
he softly jostles, a small sleepy smile spreading across his face.   
I smile back, but feel like a rabbit facing an eight-lane freeway.   
That carrot dangling on the other side.

"You taking off?" he asks, propping himself easily up on one elbow.   
He doesn't seem to care about his bare chest. I sneak a look, a   
flicker of my eyes. I've seen it before. Why does it matter?

"Um, yeah. I fell asleep on your couch," I say, stating the obvious.

"I noticed." Yeah.

"I'm sorry if I missed anything you said." I place a hand on the   
bed next to him. He glances at it and smiles at me.

"It doesn't matter. There's always another time," he says. "So you   
taking off, Scully? It's late."

"Yeah." My voice falters a bit.

"You can have the couch, Scully. It's no big deal. Well...wait,   
you can have my bed. I'll take the couch. Sorry. I'm a little   
out of it." He yawns, that perfect round mouth, those ripe,   
full lips. "I'll get up. Seriously, you should stay. It's   
too late. I'll even make you coffee in the morning."

I don't move. Don't say a word. I look at him, searching his eyes.   
He notices my concern and arches his eyebrows. "Did you have   
another talk with God?"

I lean over and catch his lower lip between mine. My eyes flutter   
closed as I sit frozen for a second, a heartbeat. One. Two. Three.   
I tilt my head and push my mouth against his, a little nudge, and   
we breathe out in unison. And then, reanimated, his lips move   
against mine, gently caressing. He nudges against me too. I open   
my eyes to meet his and we interrogate each other silently.   
Are you okay? Is this okay? More? Less? Stop? Go?

I turn my body to him and my hand sweeps up behind his head,   
threading through his hair and pulling him closer. He sits up,   
lips never leaving mine, and puts his hand on my neck over my   
hair. His thumb rubs my cheek, a familiar gesture but with a   
new added twist.

We kiss. Kiss. Grade school kisses. Middle school kisses.   
Then prom night kisses. In the back of your dad's car kisses.   
Our tongues are shy, asking permission, greeting each other   
tentatively before his warm tongue slides fully into my   
mouth. I breathe in sharply as heat rushes through me.

I twine my other arm around his neck and he slides a hand   
around my waist. We cling to each other, kisses turning desperate,   
sucking on each others' tongues and letting our fingers roam over   
little inches here and there.

My eyes open and he pulls away, dark and serious. I'm on fire,   
waiting and wanting and wondering. "Scully, you need to tell me   
where to go on this one."

I stroke the back of his neck. He's afraid. Of course we are.   
"Mulder can...we stop...analyzing cause and effect? Action   
and consequence?"

"That's usually your business, not mine."

I smile softly, look to the side. How do I tell him to stop   
thinking and feel? My eyes meet his again.

"Let go, Mulder," I whisper, staring at him.

He presses his mouth onto mine, uninhibited now, and he pulls   
one side of my jacket down, his hand tingling on my bare arm.   
Goosebumps freckle my skin. The other side, the same reaction.   
I feel my chest rise. My nipples pull taut against my bra as   
he moves my hair aside to plant his lips on the side of my neck.   
Little kisses and hot breath that drive me crazy. I run my hands   
up his bare chest, over his broad, smooth shoulders. The throbbing   
between my legs is unbearable and it's just beginning.

His hands slide around my waist, untucking my shirt and rubbing   
my hips. Gently, methodically. I notice he hasn't closed his   
eyes the entire time. He studies me, every flinch, every arch   
of an eyebrow, taking mental notes. Note: Scully's hips are very   
sensitive. Note: She likes her bottom lip bitten, but not too hard.

I close my eyes again, shuddering as he slides his warm, soft   
hands up my stomach to cup my breasts. My hands work on his shoulders  
and neck, smoothing hot skin. All the while, our mouths make love.

It took seven years to get here and it might take another   
seven to get to the point. His mouth is everything I'd imagined.   
Soft, intense, warm, inviting. I want it all over me. My eyes roll   
at the thought. I leave his lips and pull my shirt over my head.   
We're face-to-face again at another destination, panting, sharing   
a foolish half-grin. His hands are still on my breasts and he softly   
laughs, clearing his throat.

"Here we are," he finally says. I feel like a teenager,   
exploring the forbidden for the first time. I tilt my head to   
the side a little, give him a questioning look.

"Here we are," I repeat, grazing his bare chest with my eyes.   
So many ways this could go. So many paths to follow. I push his   
comforter aside, exposing his black...of course they're black...  
jockey shorts and the clearly visible arousal underneath.

I slide my leg up on the bed and over him. Straddling him.   
I have to know what it feels like. I can't wait any longer.   
Very impatient, which is unlike me.

He gasps, laughs, pants, as my bottom lightly touches his   
stiff cock. Thin, completely inconvenient and useless layers   
of fabric separate us. He feels amazing. We're so hot there,   
at that spot between us. His smile turns serious again   
as he unfastens my bra, surprisingly quick. It shouldn't   
surprise me that he's skilled at clothing removal.

As my bra falls, he examines me again, his eyes hot and   
needy. I push my hands against his chest, pressing him   
down onto the bed and supporting myself to hover over his   
body. My weight settles down on his cock and a moan escapes   
my lips. His is more of a gasp, sigh, pant.

I begin my slow descent, mouth nipping at every sensitive   
spot of his flesh. His ear, neck, more neck, shoulder,   
plucking at each hardened nipple. I slide my body down   
to kiss his sides, his flat stomach above his waistband.   
His hand tugs at my head and I glance up, tracing my tongue   
along the fabric. Animal Scully. I resist the urge to emit   
the tiniest growl. His eyes are actually wide with...shock?   
Amazement? Glee? He's panting like a puppy.

I blow against the fabric and he squirms. I can smell his   
arousal. Is it so surprising, Agent Mulder, that Dr. Scully   
loves to give head? More specifically, that she has been   
fantasizing about having you in her mouth for, oh, I don't   
know, forever?

I tug at his shorts and he arches his hips. I discard them   
and inspect him. It's not that technical, but his erection   
completely fascinates me, in its length, its straining hardness,   
my deep desire for it.

"Everything checking out all right down there, Dr. Scully?"   
he murmurs, that soft Mulder grin. I blush and I press my   
lips together.

"Well...preliminary examination indicates the subject   
is currently in a state of erection most likely caused   
by an increased flow of blood into the veins of the   
corpora cavernosa..."

"Oh, my God, Scully," he gasps, "just suck it already."

The corner of my mouth lifts into a smile and I begin my   
more detailed examination.

He slides into my wet mouth, filling it as I groan against   
the tight flesh. Mulder's fingers bury deep into my hair,   
his other hand clutching wildly at the sheets. He takes   
the Lord's name in vain. Really, really in vain.

I'm quick to start sliding him in and out, sucking so   
hard I can feel my jaw tensing against him. I want to   
consume him. My tongue is all over, tracing and tasting,   
delighting in how every flick makes him squirm and whisper   
my name. Excited over the fact that the line of muscle   
between his torso and thigh is so sensitive to my touch.   
Sometimes he sighs, but I love his gasps.

I push my tongue roughly over him, rolling, never wanting   
to stop but needing his mouth again. I slide my breasts   
up his tense body to snuggle my cheek against his neck.   
His heart is racing with mine. Who will finish first?   
Oh, too funny Dana...

His fingers tickle down my spine. In the blink of an   
eye he has me on my back. My head hits the pillow with   
a whoosh. He rises over me with a full, languid kiss,   
stealing his flavor still lingering in my mouth.

"My turn," he mutters against my lips. My heart jumps   
into my throat and I gulp to send it back down. I was wet   
before, but now...okay. He begins *his* preliminary   
examination, his mouth open against my skin. While I'm a   
nipper, he's a licker. His spiky hair tickles my chin as   
he begins lavishing my nipples with soft flicks and kisses,   
pushing his mouth under them. Nudging, kissing, leading a   
hot trail down to my belly button. I remind myself to breathe.

He unzips the side of my skirt and removes it gently.   
Augh...pantyhose. I hate hate hate...He runs his hands up   
them and pulls the silky fabric slowly down my legs.

Erotic. Yeah. Erotic.

His eyes travel over my body, my heaving chest, the teeth   
pressed into my lip, my soft little black panties barely hiding   
my excitement. He traces my legs with all ten fingers, up   
to my panties. His eyes are frozen on mine as he breathes   
deeply and slips them down over my hips.

I begin to panic. Not a bad panic, more of a...when did I   
shower last/what did I eat today/oh my God, this is not happening,   
but it really is happening, and I'm overwhelmed by...

Mulder. Plunging his tongue deep into me. I cry out and bite   
my lip again, catching the back of his head between both hands.   
Every rational thought leaves my mind. I'm left with...

He laps at me hungrily and I whimper with each stroke. I feel   
the pulse deep inside me and count each beat. Time slows. My eyes   
open to see him looking up at me as he finds the sweet bundle of   
nerves aching so badly for his touch. His rough tongue pushes over   
it and I slide my feet up onto his shoulders, heels slipping a bit   
on the sheen of sweat on his glorious back.

He rolls it in circles, sucks, nibbles. Two thick fingers slide   
into me and I feel myself starting to spasm around them. A much   
quicker build than I'm used to, I come with my back arched, stars   
exploding behind my eyelids. I can hardly breathe. I have no   
chance to savor the end of my first before he drives me to my   
second, threatening to break me. I won't survive. I won't.   
Mulder moans against me, his fingers pumping in and out,   
curling and reaching, rubbing and sucking, and I am so...  
so...gone.

He slides up next to me and voraciously covers my mouth with   
his. My smell and taste are all over him. I kiss back deeply,   
appreciative, wanting.

"Did God talk back to you yet, Scully," he pants between kisses.  
"Because you were talking to him a lot just now." He slides his   
fingers blissfully inside me once again and I groan with a twist   
of my hips.

"I think a prayer has been answered," I whisper into his ear.   
I push his shoulder down on the bed and his fingers leave my   
depths. I get to be on top. This whole thing was my idea.

I straddle his stomach and he gasps at the hot wetness   
slipping against his belly. I trace his hairline with soft   
fingers. His cheek, nose, lips, jaw. I hang my head over his   
and our foreheads meet. My cross necklace falls against his   
lips and he kisses it. His hips shift under me. I know I'm   
driving him a little bit nuts but he's done it to me countless   
times. Payback is hell.

"Do you want this, Mulder?" I ask, my eyes searching his   
for any inkling of hesitation. He slides his hands down   
my back, cupping my bottom, kneading it. He closes his   
eyes and sighs.

"I've wanted this, Scully, for a really long time."

My lips hover over his and we breathe in shared anticipation.   
I gently lift my hips and settle against his throbbing cock,   
just to the side, not inside. We both squirm as our flesh   
slides together. He pushes up and I catch him inside of me,   
a little, then a little more. I roll my eyes and tense my fingers   
against his chest. A little more. A lot more, thick, pulsing,   
settling deeply inside of me.

I'm afraid to move. His hands, still on my bottom, grip tightly   
as he lets out a slow breath. My hips rise and fall. With   
the first addicting thrust of his hips there is no turning back.   
We work into rhythm and we begin to grow wild. Let it all go.   
His cock slides through my hot, silken flesh. I can't resist   
shoving my fingers down between us to find that spot he had   
earlier teased so mercilessly. He groans as I rub myself and   
I feel him grow larger inside of me.

His hands flow over my body like water, ravish it like fire.   
He sits up and I lock my legs around him. We rock and kiss,   
our tongues penetrating as deeply as we're connected, and I   
start to come again, uncontrollably. He feels me pulling him   
deeper and moans loudly against my mouth. He pulls me tighter   
against him and thrusts hard as I come. He bites my shoulder   
and groans my name through gritted teeth. He comes hard right   
after me, as I'm falling back to Earth, hugging him tightly   
to me to keep from floating away.

We are melded together, searing, sweaty skin. Mulder deep   
inside me. I feel finished. Like life doesn't need to move  
on from this very moment. Fade to black.

Roll credits.

Mulder kisses my bitten shoulder and my neck, my lips.   
His soft, cinnamon eyes are unusually relaxed.

Outside, the wind has picked up, trees knocking on the   
windows like nature's applause. We both notice and smile,   
slightly sheepish at the night's events.

"Are you going to stay?" he murmurs, pulling strands of   
hair back from my face. I nuzzle into his neck.

"I'll probably head home. I've got to get a report in by noon   
tomorrow...today I guess...and everything's at home."

"Mmmkay," he sighs, rubbing my back slowly. He lifts my chin   
with a finger. "Will you come back?"

His eyes reveal a glint of hope, a dash of fear. I push my   
forehead against his.

"I'll come back. I'll be back as soon as I can."

He smiles and falls back dramatically onto the bed. Without   
his body I'm freezing. As much as I hate it, I slip away from   
him, emptiness replacing his warmth. I tug the comforter up,   
tucking him into his bed.

"Mmm. Nice." He snuggles into it. Mulder, a typical post-coital   
male, is drained and groggy. And fairly cute. I gather my assorted   
items of discarded clothing and pat his leg.

"I'm going to go get cleaned up in the bathroom," I whisper.   
Hopefully, he has some sort of washcloth available.

"Okay," he murmurs. "In the cabinet, under the sink."

With a sigh, I give him one more pat. His eyes are closed,   
his breathing deeper. My clothes in hand, I walk into the bathroom.   
A stolen glance over my shoulder one more time reveals Mulder   
softly sleeping. Like a baby.

A smile twitches at my mouth as I flick on the light.


End file.
